


Sunflowers

by Shelligator



Category: Green Eggs and Ham (Cartoon), Green Eggs and Ham - Dr. Seuss, green eggs and ham netflix
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Comfort, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, JUST KISS ALREADY, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Sunflowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23502787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shelligator/pseuds/Shelligator
Summary: “Guy...”The knox stops, on the verge of getting up, though he’s not entirely sure where he’d have gone if he had. And any thought of doing absolutely anything is all but wiped from his brain as Sam’s arms are suddenly around him, looping around the tawny fur of his midriff. The former con man buries his face in Guy’s ruff, the close contact knocking his straw hat askew, and Guy catches it without thinking, though he can’t really think about much at all besides for the press of his friend against him."Sam..."-------------------------------------------------It's their attraction to the sun that gives sunflowers their name, always turning their faces up to its warmth. But when they can't find it, those blooms turn to face each other.This is a story about Guy Am-I and Sam I-Am, and their search for sunshine.
Relationships: Guy Am I/Sam I Am (Green Eggs and Ham)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	Sunflowers

**Author's Note:**

> I desperately wanted to write fluff and romance, and punt the sunshine twink agenda. So here, have a really big flower metaphor <3 I hope you like it, the idea has been knocking around in my head for a while.
> 
> I also borrowed some headcanons for this! Guy has canines (Thank you Chickeraffe Bandits <3), and his ruff poofs up/stands on end when he's flustered (Thank you Zinnc <3). Guy is a doggo, change my mind.
> 
> Anyways, happy reading! This is a oneshot, though i have some other ideas for sequels set in the same universe.

“Woah!” Sam whoops, his free hand shooting up to hold onto his sun hat as another particularly strong breeze threatens to whisk it away from him, not for the first time that afternoon. He falters in his step beside Guy, taking a moment to set down his oversized briefcase on the gravel path with a quiet crunch.

The knox pauses too, taking the opportunity to let his earthy brown eyes scan the rolling fields and hills that surround the isolated stretch of road to East Flurbia they find themselves on. Golden acres of crops and grass stretch beneath the sun as far as the eye can see, though his gaze drifts upwards to settle on the embankment of dark clouds in the distance, marring the otherwise perfect late Summer vista. Even from here he can see how quickly they approach them, carried by the wind that brushes through their fur and so eagerly plays with Sam’s hat.

He heaves a sigh, adjusting the brim of his stovepipe, “Looks like we’re in for rain. _Splendid_.” He turns to his sunny little companion, arching a brow as he waves his hand towards him, “You know, your favourite hat is a little less prone to… flights of fancy. Maybe you should just put that away for now?”

Sam gasps, as if the mere idea is scandalous, “Guy! I’ll have you know, I am a man of culture. And that involves partaking in what is customary of these parts. If that means chasing after my hat, well, _c'est la vie_.” 

Guy rolls his eyes a little at the smaller man’s giggles, drawling as he rolls his shoulders upwards, “My sincerest apologies, sometimes it’s easy to forget just how _cultured_ you are.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, best friend! It happens to the best of us.” Sam effortlessly glosses over the jab, flashing him a playful smile as he throws his arms out, “And besides, this hat is adorable, right?”

The former chickeraffe bandit allows his gaze to roam over his tiny friend, from his feet up to the hat in question. It’s a typical wide-brimmed sun hat made from woven straw, with a simple, glossy red ribbon wrapped around the base. It seems almost too big on the tiny former convict, and yet, he’s right. It does look adorable.

In fact, the hat is but one part of what Guy realizes is a perfect picture. The other man is the epitome of a Summer day. Blue eyes as bright and deep as a cloudless sky, his smile warmer than the sun Guy feels on his face. Behind him, those fields sway and roll in shimmering waves with the breeze, and Sam’s fur does the same, shining the same shade of gold in the afternoon sunlight.

For a moment, it feels like the inventor is falling, like the gravel path beneath him has been swept out from under him.

“I mean, sure, it’s not bad.” Guy grunts, picking up his suitcase as he hurriedly averts his gaze from the luster of Sam’s fur and the brilliance of that smiling face. He makes to continue down the lonely stretch of road, and Sam deftly picks up his attaché as well, lifting it with an ease that betrays the strength contained in his petite figure. 

“Oh, you flatterer you! Always such a way with words!”

The smaller man bounds the short distance to catch up, grinning broadly up at him in light of the half-hearted compliment Guy had given his new attire. And then Sam keeps going, hopping from one foot to another in a series of consecutive 3-step turns that he practically throws himself into. It’s enough to steal a warm chuckle from Guy, who watches as his yellow companion dances up the road ahead of him with awe-inspiring vigour, hand occasionally shooting up to pin his hat before it can be swept up by the wind.

They continue to follow the road as it meanders through the hills, the sun arcing slowly but steadily towards the horizon as those clouds loom ever closer. It’s only when they reach the lip of a sprawling valley that the two come to a stop again, taking a moment to catch their breath and drink in the view of that golden basin.

From here, Guy can just about make out the crops that call the valley home. Acres upon acres of sunflowers stretch out over the entirety of the valley, their faces turned to follow the sun as it journeys to the west. They sway with the breeze that carries the clouds from the east, and even as the men stand there taking it all in, the shadow of those clouds creeps over the other side of the basin, muting those warm palettes of gold, green and orange.

The sight brings a memory swimming to the surface of Guy's mind. A tiny copper-coloured knox pup pressed up against the car window on a family road trip, watching the sunflowers turn to face the setting sun as his grandpa explained the origin of their name. It fascinated the boy, but then again, there hadn’t been much that hadn’t fascinated his inquisitive young mind back then.

Guy looks down on those rows upon rows of sunny faces, lost for words in the face of such a view, and Sam gasps quietly in matching awe, grasping his briefcase in both hands. It takes a good few moments before the taller chickeraffe bandit is able to pull his gaze away, sucking in a breath to let it all out in a tired whoosh. 

“What do you say we stop for a bite to eat?"

His best friend gasps excitedly beside him, “I was thinking the exact same thing, hungry Travel Buddy! How does that expression go? Two brains in a pod? No no, that’s not right-”

“Great minds think alike?” Guy offers, already starting to amble his way to a nearby maple tree. Sam bolts right past him to throw himself down amongst the fallen leaves that blanket the grass at the base of it, sprawling languidly with his back against the bark.

“Precisely that! Took the words right out of my mouth.” The smaller man chirps happily, and he pulls his briefcase towards himself, opening it with an air of showmanship, “Your reward? Only the finest, greenest bacon and egg sandwich your buddy could find!”

Tongue poking out between his lips, Sam rummages around in his briefcase, probably for longer than he’d hoped for as Guy sits down heavily beside him, sighing in relief to finally be off his feet. It’s only after another minute that the former convict manages to whip two carefully wrapped takeaway sandwiches out of his attaché, “Aha! Got em! _Bon appetit_ , my good sir!”

“ _Merci_.” Guy deadpans back, before wasting no further time to dig into his food. By now the sandwich is cold, greasy with bacon fat and fried egg. But the knox digs into it without a care, only now realizing the full extent of his hunger. And despite the rubberiness of it, his canines make quick work of the bacon, shredding it with well-angled bites.

Sam does the same beside him, one leg propped up on his knee with his foot swaying lazily. Keen eyes scan over the valley of flowers below as he eats, and Guy can’t help but notice the subtle knit of the sunny man’s brow in spite of the picturesque view that sprawls out before them. Some yolk trails over Sam’s bottom lip, and his tongue intercepts it almost pensively, Guy thinks, before he catches himself staring and quickly follows Sam’s gaze out to the fields.

Neither man says it, but the eggs are his mother’s, rich, creamy and flavourful, with a hint of spice that only green eggs can have. They’ve encountered them continuously since arriving in the country. Sam had mentioned it before, but it’s odd for the orphan to taste his mother’s cooking so regularly now after he’d been searching for it for so, so long. And yet, he hasn’t quite reached Ma’s Farmhouse just yet. It isn’t how he’d expected finding his mother to pan out, but then again, when did anything go as expected for the pair?

The man in question smacks his lips together, having wolfed down his sandwich in record time. Absently he sucks his fingers clean, and Guy turns again to watch Sam’s gaze drift to his open briefcase beside him. From here the inventor can make out that it’s full to bursting with various curios and knick-knacks, a plethora of gift shop purchases that the smaller man had accumulated in their long journey around the world.

“I hope she likes all this stuff.” Sam remarks with a lopsided smile, catching Guy eyeing them. The Who moves to pull a chickeraffe plush toy from the mix, and Guy lets out a long sigh, his gaze lingering on the likeness of their wild animal friend and quasi-adopted-son.

“Oh, I would hope so too, since you spent almost all our bruckles on that.” He quickly catches the bite to his words, and he clears his throat, ashamed. Waving a hand to the doll he offers what he hopes is a reassuring smile, willing the warmth to reach him, “And besides, with how much you bought, she’s sure to like at least _something_. Statistically, the odds are in your favour!”

But it’s with the imploring look that Guy levels at the other man that he notices the uncharacteristic lack of warmth in the smile that’s plastered to Sam’s lips. His eyes, usually as warm and open as the sky, have become guarded and icy, with an unending sadness that seems near bottomless.

Once upon a time, he wouldn’t have caught any of this, wouldn’t have been able to see past the walls that Sam so quickly erects to hide behind. But he could see it now clear as day, so stark against the warmth that often graced his features. Despite his best efforts, the shadow was clear across Sam’s features, as clear as the one steadily marching across the valley below.

“You’re right, I guess. I just… I dunno…” Sam tries, his voice small, like it had been in the tent all those days ago. A moment of openness and vulnerability that Guy was lucky to witness, “I just want it to be enough for her.”

Those words send Guy cold despite their innocuousness, and his bushy brows knit together as he holds Sam’s gaze. The smaller man tries to look away, but Guy reaches out to place his hand on his shoulder, drawing Sam’s eyes back to him.

“You’re not talking about the gifts, are you Sam?” Despite his words, there’s no hint of a question in his tone, and Sam’s eyes visibly widen in surprise, that small shoulder of his stiffening beneath Guy’s much larger palm. But Guy’s tone is gentle and coaxing, warm in its forwardness.

“What do you… I… how do you…” Sam struggles to find the words, his voice quickly thickening with emotion as those words hang heavy in the space between them. But with the warmth of Guy’s eye contact, the inventor is relieved to see the ice thaw from Sam’s eyes, helped along by the tears that well up there.

“I mean, I’d be lying to you if I said I knew you better than I know myself, but…” Guy rubs the back of his neck, offering him a small, encouraging smile, “We’re best friends, remember? I notice things.”

It’s rare for Guy to really take notice of things. Unlike Sam, Guy is terrible at reading people, and really couldn’t care less most days. But being joined at the hip with Sam I-Am, the little man has become as familiar to him as his own shadow.

And so Guy notices. Notices the way the light sparkles in Sam’s eyes, like the star Sirius as it winks down from a cloudless afternoon sky. Notices how sunlight lights up his fur in a brilliant gold, reflecting off the satin surface. He can’t count the times he’s caught himself smiling at him, his chest aching at the sight of Sam’s beaming face or to the sound of his giggles and all out laughter, yet he couldn’t bring himself to try.

But he can’t deny it now as he notices the wobble of Sam’s lips as they press together firmly, or the way the light glints off Sam’s tears before they can disappear into the snowy fur of his cheeks. When Sam brings his hands up to paw those tears away, his throat working, Guy stubbornly ignores the urge he feels to reach out with his free hand and sweep those tears away with his thumb.

Instead, his thumb gently brushes over Sam’s chest and collarbone, his hand still enveloping his shoulder. The fur catches beneath the upward sweep of his thumb before he carefully smooths it over again, repeating the motions in comforting caresses that make the smaller man’s chest heave beneath his digit.

“Well that’s a first, but…” Sam lets out a wet chuckle, flashing him a shaky smile, “I could get used to that…” 

“Mmmm” the hum rumbles in Guy’s chest, and he gives Sam’s shoulder a light squeeze even as his thumb continues its ministrations, “So what’s on your mind, Sam? If you want to talk about it, of course.”

Sam remains silent, ducking his head to cast his face in the shadow of his sun hat. He shifts till he’s sitting cross legged, and his hands pick and pull at the grass blades that poke through the leaves, betraying his racing thoughts despite his silence. But Guy keeps his hand on his shoulder, watching him expectantly.

He’s about to let his hand retreat and stop his prying, when Sam sucks in a deep breath that shakes his entire frame. He lets it out in a whoosh, his shoulders hunching forward as he looks out over the valley again.

“I’ve been looking for my mother for so long. I thought, right, that when it happened, it would be right as I tasted her eggs. That I would find her waiting for me, smiling with open arms. She’d be so happy to see me.”

The Who throws his arms up, waving them in his frustration and sending some grass blades flying, “I know where she is now. But I can’t stop _thinking_ , you know? These thoughts that… that hurt _so much_. They’ve always been there, but I… I always _hoped_ that when no one else wanted me, at least my mother did. That she didn’t want to give me up, but the reason was just _too much_ not to.”

Guy’s heart aches, but he listens in silence, watching as Sam puts his head in his hands, “But now, all I can think about is… what if I was wrong? What if I just… wasn’t enough, like I’ve never been enough for anyone else. If I wasn’t enough for her then… how could I ever be enough now?”

Those last words come carried on a sob that racks Sam’s shoulder beneath his hand, and Guy reels, struck dumb by those words. The brush of his thumb on the Who’s shoulder ceases, only for his hand to clamp down in a firm squeeze, enough to make Sam look up at him again, his falling away from his teary eyes.

“Sam… that is the single most _ridiculous_ thing I’ve ever heard.” Guy affirms, and Sam flinches, as if struck. The former convict opens his mouth to argue, but Guy doesn’t give him a chance, soldiering on.

“ _You_ aren’t the problem, Sam. For yips sake, I... look.” The inventor fumbles hopelessly, too many words, too many feelings, all clambering to the tip of his tongue, all wanting to let fly at once. But he shakes his head and forces himself to try again, pressing his free hand to his chest, “You can’t take responsibility for the cruelty, the _stupidity_ of every goddamn son of a yip out there. You hear me? You… I can’t even _fathom_ you being anything less than the best thing to happen to me.”

Sam sucks in a breath, his eyes going comically wide as his cheeks go a brilliant shade of pink, a shade that makes Guy’s heart trip and falter in his chest as it hammers away vehemently.

“Guy…” Sam breathes, the breeze attempting to send his hat flying, though neither man notices. Those blue eyes swim with emotion, and Guy feels another throbbing ache in his chest that rises up into his throat, threatening to steal his breath. It only worsens as one of Sam’s hands comes up to rest over the hand that still grips his shoulder

But Guy continues before Sam can say anymore, flustered in the face of Sam’s awe, “I’m sorry, I’m not good at this stuff. I’ve never been good at this. But you gave me hope when I had nothing left. It’s because of you that I can even try to love myself again. And that’s… that _means so much_. You’re… a wonderful person, Sam. Your mother is lucky to have a second chance to have you in her life again, like I’m lucky to have you in mine.”

The smaller man stares up at him, lips slightly parted. He’s shocked speechless, one of the few times Sam has ever been lost for words. The two stay locked in eye contact for the longest time, but for Guy time seems to stand still, his heart beating incredibly loudly in his ears.

Maybe he’s said too much.

His brain scrambles for something, anything to say to correct his blunder, and it takes a monumental effort to pry his gaze free from Sam’s eyes, the taller man blustering, “I er… look, you get the picture, right? Don’t beat yourself up-”

“Guy...”

The knox stops, on the verge of getting up, though he’s not entirely sure where he’d have gone if he had. And any thought of doing absolutely anything is all but wiped from his brain as Sam’s arms are suddenly around him, looping around the tawny fur of his midriff. The former con man buries his face in Guy’s ruff, the close contact knocking his straw hat askew, and Guy catches it without thinking, though he can’t really think about much at all besides for the press of his friend against him.

“Sam…” Guy chokes out, his arms tense as he rolls his shoulders upwards, looking down at the other man’s crown, just about all that he can see of him as Sam burrows into his mane of creamy fur. All of him bristles at the intimacy of it, keenly aware of every shaky inhale and exhale of Sam’s warm breath against his thundering chest, and the individual presses of Sam’s fingers as they lace through the fur of his back.

“Thank you…” comes the muffled reply, and Guy feels the other man squeeze him tightly, as firmly as Sam had captured him through the iron bars of his prison cell, and as securely as he’d held him after he’d caught the wannabe-paint-watcher in their daring prison escape, lowering him onto his feet as carefully as he would if he were made of glass.

The inventor blinks hard, his hands flexing in the air above his sunny Travel Buddy as if unsure of what to do with them, rubbing the straw brim of the hat he’d caught between his fingers. His stomach feels like it’s doing backflips, and his ruff feels incredibly hot, every movement of his friend snuzzling into his fur sending tingling sparks across the skin beneath. It makes his mane seem to grow in volume, fur standing on end and poofing up as a tremor shakes his entire frame.

After a moment of hesitation, he lowers his free hand awkwardly but sincerely to pat Sam’s back, like he’d done when his parents had enveloped him in their embrace. And yet, despite his nerves, his hand slows till those pats become rubs, palm flat against the warm summer expanse of Sam’s back. He moves his hand in short glides and strokes, ruffling Sam’s fur and smoothing it over again, and he feels Sam’s back press up into his touch, rolling beneath his palm.

“What for?” Guy chuckles softly, feeling himself relax into Sam’s warmth. This wasn’t so bad, really, “For being honest?”

Sam giggles, his shoulders rolling, and he finally tilts his face upward. He looks up to Guy’s smiling face with one to match, his azure eyes once again sparkling with warmth, “Boy, where do I even start?”

Guy feels his breath leave him in a rush, suddenly very aware of how close Sam’s face is to his own, chin still resting in the pillow of his ruff. The knox swallows, his smile becoming a touch shaky with nerves. Whatever retort he may have had to those words is stolen from him, so he merely arches a brow down at the other man, a hum rumbling in his chest.

“I mean, right now, the best way to word it is… thanks for catching me, bud.” Sam offers, tilting his head downwards just so till he’s looking up at him through his lashes, “It's nice, not doing this alone.”

Guy gasps, feeling like he’s falling again. He remembers the all-too-familiar sensation in his stomach before his back impacted with the unyielding strength of Sam’s arms, resolute hands grabbing him and holding him firm to check his descent. It causes his hand to cease its back and forth along his friend's spine, and he presses his lips together firmly, mulling over all the words that spring unbidden to his tongue.

_Sam…_

“What are Best Friends for?” he settles for, his hand closing into a fist on Sam’s back as he offers him a lopsided smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but is no less warm. Sam’s grin makes up for it ten fold however, painfully bright in its joy and enthusiasm.

“You said it!” Sam cheers, and he abruptly sits up in Guy’s lap to throw his hands out flamboyantly, beaming up at him “And you’re the Best Friend and Travel Buddy a Sam could ask for!”

Guy mourns the loss of Sam’s hands on his back, and a chill quickly rushes in to run icy tendrils through his ruff and pinch his brows together ever so slightly in disdain. But as he casts his eyes to the skyline behind his friend he’s quick to blame it on the approaching cloud front, now substantially closer than it had been when they’d first sat down.

“Not to be the rain on your parade Sam, but it actually looks like it’s going to. We need to get a move on and find a place to stay.” The knox gestures to the gloomy sky, and Sam blinks hard, looking over his shoulder to see the shadow of those pregnant thunder clouds for himself.

“Oh right! I forgot about that. But hey, it’s not like we haven’t been rained on before, and a little precipitation won’t kill us!”

“It might not Sam, but it will in fact put me in a very, very bad mood.” Guy notes darkly, but the other man simply chuckles, bouncing to his feet and scooping up his briefcase in one fluid motion. With a flourish the former convict throws out his hand to help Guy to his feet, and the inventor eyes the offered palm, so small compared to his own.

“And kill that happy smile of yours? Now that’s the real tragedy.” Sam drawls, and Guy feels his neck flare up with heat, that warmth creeping into his cheeks to paint his marigold fur with a subtle pink hue he hopes his friend can’t see.

Nevertheless, Sam only gets a grumph and a very, very pointed eye roll before Guy places his hand in his. Once upon a time he’d have been quick to dismiss the help, especially coming from a man less than half his size, but he knew better now than to take Sam at face value over just about anything.

So it’s no surprise when those honey coloured fingers close around his wrist, and with a happy chuckle and quiet grunt Sam pulls Guy to his feet, stepping back as he tugs him along. The taller man wobbles for a moment before flashing Sam a fond smirk, returning that sun hat to the snowy crown of his head.

The pair return to the road to make their descent into the valley of flowers, Sam’s movements even more animated and jubilant than they’d been before their lunch. He races down the hill ahead of Guy in haphazard leaps and jumps that has Guy calling after him in worry, convinced the smaller man is going to fall right on his face. He picks up his pace to a light jog, leaning back so his momentum won’t send him sprawling.

When the road levels out beneath him, Guy finds Sam waiting there for him, looking out over the fields of tall sunflowers that stretch before them. The Who sucks in a deep breath, hands on his hips, before he looks up at Guy out of the corner of his eyes.

“They seem happy, don’t they?” The smaller man chirps with a giggle, and Guy blinks hard, taken aback by the observation. He looks from his golden companion to the flowers that seem to have been made in his likeness, or perhaps it was the other way round? He wasn’t sure.

“They’re flowers, Sam.” He responds flatly, but when Sam folds his arms and arches a cocky brow at him, the knox relents, “What makes you say that?”

“Well, they’ve got some pretty prime real estate going for them, with plenty of sunshine, and they’ve got a good _sway_ going with the breeze. What’s not to be happy about?” the bandit enthuses, and he adds a playful sashay of his hips to the word ‘sway’, his smile splitting his face.

Guy lets that sink in for a moment, his gaze lingering on that smiling face before he moves to keep going, waving his free hand towards the clouds, “I hate to tell you Sam, but they’ll have to do without the sunshine any second now. Just like we will. Let’s go.”

Sam chuckles, rolling his shoulders as if the notion doesn’t faze him in the slightest as he follows along behind him, “Sure. But hey, at least they have each other, right?”

Those words give the former accomplice pause however, slowing in his step enough for Sam to pass him. Chocolate coloured eyes widen fractionally, eyebrows arching high on his brow as he watches the gap between him and Sam grow steadily.

_At least they have each other..._

That’s right. He remembers all of it now, Sam’s voice stirring those once forgotten memories and bringing them to the light. His grandpa’s warm, enthusiastic smile as he told his younger self all about how when sunflowers can’t find the sun, they turn to face each other. 

It was an endearing sentiment, but one that coaxes a dismissive grumph from behind the autumn knox’s tightly-closed lips. As far as he’s concerned, there was no science behind such a claim, an old wive’s tale and romanticized urban legend. But the thought had been dazzling to him as a tiny, bright eyed and bushy-furred knox pup, and thinking back, that was all that mattered.

It’s only when a shadow falls over him that Guy realizes he’s almost come to a standstill, and he blinks hard, shaking himself from his reverie as the daylight is finally blotted out by the dense clouds overhead. Scolding himself for wasting time, the inventor moves to pick up his pace, attempting to catch up with his nimble companion as the Who trots along.

But it isn’t long before Guy comes to a stop all over again, sucking in a shaky breath of shock and disbelief as his stomach seems to drop straight through the gravel beneath his feet. His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and he leans forward somewhat, blinking hard as if he could prove to himself that his eyes are in fact deceiving him.

They aren't. All around him those sunflowers are turning on their stems, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of sunlight. The man of science wouldn’t believe it if he didn’t see it with his own eyes, but he sees it now, watching those golden soldiers turning on the spot in their search for sunshine.

Turning to follow Sam I-Am.

It seems to take the other man a moment to notice the spotlight of those blooming faces swivelling to watch him go, his eyes heavy-lidded as he hums an upbeat, soaring melody that Guy can’t quite put his finger on, but one that sounds vaguely familiar all the same. When he does notice however, Sam whirls on the spot, letting out a gasp that’s entirely genuine as he drops his attaché.

“Oho! Wow, hey there!” he chortles, his smile growing tenfold in amazement and excitement. The joy seems to roll off him, and with a giddy burst of laughter he spins to throw his hands up, calling out to Guy with a zealous cry, “ _Guy!_ Are you _seeing_ this?!”

The knox in question can only splutter helplessly, that sneak and his flowery entourage stealing all the words from him, like he’d stolen his wallet so many times before. Indeed, he was seeing this. Guy can only watch as Sam leaps this way and that, laughing joyously as the flowers keep pace with him. They turn about on the spot, almost seeming to reach out for him in the way they lean inwards so attentively, hanging on his every movement.

He’s not sure when or how his hand got there, but Guy feels his hand clutch and dig into his ruff as an unmistakable sensation wells up in his chest, his heart swelling to ten times its size. 

And as Sam starts to dance and twirl his way down the road, offering up a spirited performance for his newfound audience, Guy feels inexplicably pulled towards the other man, the urge to run towards him making him lean forward like all those flowers around them. He feels like he’s falling all over again, his head spinning with the sensation, and his heart sputters and trips over itself in a clumsy fluster.

But he can’t deny the lie in all of that. There’s nothing inexplicable about the pull he feels towards Sam, nothing perplexing about the way his entire world seems to spin on the axis of Sam’s happy smile. He’s certainly tried his damnedest to ignore the way his heart seems to glow when he’s with the other man, but there isn’t anything baffling about it.

And any doubt there might have been is all but obliterated now as he watches Sam throw himself into an impassioned series of spins, dancing up the road ahead of him to the sway of those sunflowers. Sam laughs and whoops in elation, and the sound is like music to Guys ears.

Guy Am-I is wholly, unshakably in love with Sam I-Am.

The realization, the acceptance, threatens to send him to his knees, and a small whine escapes from between his parted lips as the wind comes past him in a rush, threatening to send his hat skyward. But he does nothing to stop it, clutching his chest desperately as his heart aches with all-consuming longing. He tries to cry out, to draw Sam’s attention back to him, but no other sound can be coaxed from him.

Luckily for him, Sam suddenly twirls, whirling around to face Guy as he’s poised haphazardly on one leg. It seems like he might just fall backwards, his arms flung out to find some balance, but the former Furry Foot Bandit simply beams at him, riding the high. The gesture is so warm, so brilliant, that it steals Guy’s breath away all over again.

Despite the clouds, it feels like the sun is shining on his face.

_When sunflowers can’t find the sun, they turn to face each other._

And then Sam is charging at him, practically flying to close the space between them. The flowers try their best, but they lag behind the near violent trajectory of the heister as he hurtles towards the shell shocked knox. Within seconds Sam is upon him, flinging his arms around Guy’s middle in an attempt to tackle and hug him.

And while Guy would usually be capable of bracing himself for the impact enough to keep himself upright, he’s pretty sure he’s not capable of _thinking_ , let alone bracing himself for anything. So when Sam hits him like a speeding train, the two let out twin cries of shock as they both go sprawling, Guy’s briefcase falling from his grasp. Thrown backwards, Guy hisses out a breath as his back hits the gravel hard, and Sam falls flat against him, his palms scraping harshly in the dirt.

Bemused, the Who pushes himself up onto his elbows, and Guy is once again confronted by the proximity of Sam’s face to his own as he leans over him. Earthy brown meets azure blue, and both men pause right where they are, the sunflowers seeming to lean in over them to catch a glimpse of Sam’s sunshine.

But with Sam’s face mere inches from his own, his warm, shaky breath washing over Guy’s lips, the inventor is adamant that the sunshine is his alone, his sunflower in a world that had lacked any form of light and joy whatsoever for the longest time. His chest heaves, and butterflies take flight in his stomach as he gets lost in the familiar features of Sam's face.

“ _Quiche Lorraine._ ” the other man breathes, starstruck, and Guy echoes the sentiment with a quiet whimper of his own.

They stay like that for the longest time, staring into each other’s eyes, shaky breaths escaping parted lips to tickle each other’s fur. Guy traces the curve of Sam’s lips with his eyes, and he contemplates how much it would cost to close the distance between them, the consequences of pressing his mouth to Sam’s. It’s monumental, unfathomable even, but _oh yip he wants it_. Wants it so badly that he finds himself leaning upwards just slightly, canting his head just so to angle his mouth.

Sam shudders above him, his eyes swimming with warmth and anticipation from beneath his lashes. A soft, anxious sound escapes him, and Guy’s heart thrashes violently against the cage of his chest as Sam similarly tilts his head towards him. An invitation, perhaps?

_Come on, Guy Am-I._

But then just like that, the sky seems to open up overhead, a crack of thunder bringing with it a heavy rain that pelts down on the pair. The smell of petrichor fills his nostrils, and Guy yelps out, shocked from the spell that had befallen him with the promise of Sam’s lips finally reaching his own. Sam stiffens over him, the former convict searching Guy’s face with rapid flicks of his eyes to and fro.

And then he’s gone, the smaller man sitting upright on his chest to the sound of a frantic yelp. His hands poised at his chest like little paws, Sam stumbles and splutters, trying to string sounds together to form coherent words. Finally he settles on a shaky smile, scrunching his shoulders upwards.

“Heh, _yeah_ , what was that about a very, very bad mood? I know getting rained on was the last thing you wanted.”

Guy blinks up at him, incredulous and shaken by the loss of Sam’s proximity. For a moment, a wild desperation claws at his chest, and he wants nothing more than to sit upright and crush his lips to Sam’s.

Instead, an awestruck bubble of laughter wrests itself free from Guy’s lips, and soon he just can’t help it, the knox howling with joy and laughter beneath Sam’s hands as they come down to rest on his chest.

“Guy?” Sam presses, bemused by the sudden display of mirth, but Guy’s laughter is infectious, and soon Sam’s giggling with him, a shaky hand coming up to cover his mouth.

It takes a good few moments for Guy to calm down, his cheeks rosy as he smiles shakily up at his best friend. The best friend he loves, the best friend he wants with every cell of his being. The best friend who’s given him so much, and yet deserves so much more.

And loving Sam I-Am just feels so, so _good_. So overwhelmingly _right_.

“Sorry, I just… well, I remembered something my grandpa told me. About your sunny friends over there.”

Sam blinks, his gaze momentarily flicking to the sunflowers that still lean in around them despite the downpour, and he offers Guy an almost bashful grin, leaning in, “Oh, and what was that?”

“Well Sam I-Am… How about I tell you all about it when we find a place to get warm and dry?”

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End file.
